


When First I Met You

by MidnightMinx90



Series: To Build a Home (With You) [1]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, M/M, Past Tense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 04:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1052450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MidnightMinx90/pseuds/MidnightMinx90
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaun thinks back to the first time he met Desmond, and how that faithful meeting in an industrial bar in Manhattan changed his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When First I Met You

When they saw each other for the first time, it was a late summer night. The day had been unnaturally humid, and the big city had made it much worse. Shaun was back in New York for two weeks to catch up with some friends from his time in college. They had moved there because they’d been offered some jobs after having studied a semester at one of the schools.

Shaun had gone off to Italy for a semester, finding that history much more interesting.  
Even though that wasn’t his first time in America, he’d never managed to understand why people found the country so appealing. The laws were ridiculous, the people and their view on war and religion and anyone not straight and white and rich even more so. 

He loves history, which is why he ended up as a history professor. Shaun loves learning and teaching about the change, which is basically what history is to him. History is about change, about how interesting it is, and how dull it becomes when it stays dormant. It’s not only about how much humanity can learn from its mistakes through the ages, but how it also repeats itself, sometimes several times before it understands what needs to be done.

Going to New York hadn’t been Shaun’s idea, but the product of his colleagues getting in touch with his former college mates and arranging for him to go. They all knew he didn’t let work go, even over the summer and wanted him to go do something un-related to his work. 

This was how Shaun found himself in a bar in Manhattan, called Bad Weather, chosen by his mates because the name didn’t fit the weather of the past few days.  
Shaun didn’t mind drinking, but he preferred pubs over bars, and was therefore reluctant to go, despite what the other guys said. So they reminded him why he was there in the first place, and practically dragged him along.

It was thankfully not crowded due to the heat, which would have made the whole experience unbearable.  
The bar was inside an old brick building, furnished in a way that made it look industrial, but still managed to look comfortable.

Shaun found himself surprised, actually liking the place, finding the atmosphere enjoyable.  
As they found a table, he looked around at the place, and noticed that most of the furniture looked to be made from salvaged parts, pieces having been made useful again after having been dumped somewhere. It gave the place a truly unique look. 

The stools were of metal and wood, the tables the same and the seating for the tables were of deep, red leather. Uncovered lightbulbs hung from exposed beams running across the high ceiling, providing dimmed light. 

The main focus of the place was the long bar, made out of the same material as the stools and tables, the glass and metal shelves behind stocked will all kinds of alcohol and drink mixes.

All around, black and white photographs hang on the walls, most of them classic New York pictures sold all over the world, while others show the history of the building and the people who have worked there. 

It hadn’t taken long before a waitress showed up and they all ordered beers. She looked rather ordinary, light skin, blonde hair and petite, nothing Shaun cared about. It turned out none of his friends did either, because they told him they all had someone at the moment. 

Time went by quickly, as they had much to catch up on. They had only kept in touch by the occasional email throughout the years, and they only covered the most basic.  
They talked about the old times, how things had changed, what had stayed the same – like Shaun’s obsession with everything to do with history and how he had a hard time not learning new things all the time – and what they were working on. 

Shaun had told them there might be an opening for him the next year as a professor in history at Swansea University, though there was no guarantee at that point he’d actually get it.  
So they had toasted for him, wishing him the best of luck, because it would be a perfect job for him.

By the time they had stumbled out of the bar, it had been early morning and Shaun hadn’t been sure if he’d just imagined one of the male bartenders looking at him with an odd look, or if the man had done it. 

It had taken Shaun some time to actually arrive in his hotel room, and by the time he did it was four thirty, so he had collapsed on the bed fully dressed.

And that night had been the first night he’d dreamt of the bartender. 

**

Shaun hadn’t returned to the bar until five days later, and by then he’d forgotten all about the bartender.  
That time it had only been him, so he’d taken a seat by the bar. The waitress from last time had been there again, but she had been too busy waiting tables to serve Shaun.

And that was how Shaun had first met Desmond. 

He remembered clearly how Desmond had cocked his head and looked at Shaun with that strange look again, and Shaun remembered even more clearly how uncomfortable the look from the younger man had made him. 

“What?” Shaun had made his tone as sour as possible, but the man had just continued to look at him, and there had been no proof he’d even heard him. 

“I feel like I know you,” the reply had been, and Shaun had scoffed. He’d known there was no way he’d met this guy before and he’d know if he had, weird as the man had been.

“Look, just give a beer, okay?”

“Shit, yeah, sorry.” The bartender had walked off to get one and Shaun had gotten a couple beers for free that night. Even though they hadn’t talked anymore, Shaun had noticed the man looking at him in a strange way the rest of the night. 

**

Maybe it was strange, but the encounter hadn’t actually stopped Shaun from frequenting the bar, either alone of with some of the old gang, who sometimes had dragged their girlfriends along.  
Shaun hadn’t actually minded it, but when he was back in his room for the night, he’d sometimes thought about how lonely he’d felt.

And it was mostly on those nights he’d dreamt about the bartender, though he’d never remembered it in the morning. 

**

Shaun learnt the bartender’s name when he’d had three nights left in the city. 

And that had been something he hadn’t recalled until he was on his plane back to London. 

He’d gone to the bar and gotten drunk because the loneliness had started to creep up on him. His mates had all been busy, he’d had nothing better to do and he’d refused to wallow in self-pity.

One thing had led to another, and when he’d awoken the ne next morning his head had been hammering. Reaching out when he had tried to get up, his fingers had hit something warm, but before he’d been able to find out what had happened, Shaun had run into the bathroom and puked. 

It had dawned on Shaun pretty fast that he wasn’t in his hotel room and that he’d felt a stiff soreness he hadn’t felt in quite some time, which lead to a quick realisation of what had happened that night. 

Shaun had acted quickly, dressed in his shirt, pants and shoes and had left the place in a hurry.  
But when he was about to pay for the cab, he had realised rather soon that he’d left his wallet and boxers at the guy’s place. Luckily he had just enough money in his pocket to pay the fee.

Stuck in his room, he’d phoned his card-companies and gotten them to block his cards in case the guy decided to use any of them.  
He’d spent the rest of the day taking a nap and watching crappy TV. When his friends had asked if he’d come with them to the bar that night, he’d accepted because he needed his wallet back.  
If it hadn’t been for that, he wouldn’t have gone back. 

He’d wasted no time arriving at the bar, but had marched right up and demanded to talk to him in private.  
Once out of earshot, Shaun had simply held out his hand and told the guy to give him wallet. The bartender had handed it over and waited until Shaun had checked that everything was still there, down to the last cent. 

Nodding to him, Shaun had then turned on his heel and walked over to his friends, never feeling the piece being slipped into his back pocket.

**

He didn’t go back to the bar again after that night, and made a deal with himself to forget all about the man.

It had worked perfectly fine until he was back in London, unpacking and sorting his laundry. Because that was when a note fell out of one of his jeans – a note with a phone number and a name, a note telling him they’d meet again in a few weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> The story starts of slow, but more will happen in further chapters. 
> 
> This is also the only chapter that is in past tense; all others will be in presesnt.
> 
> I wanted a series of domestic ShaunDes, and I wanted to make it AU for simplicity. But there are and will be elements from the canon too (like the name of the bar Desmond works at).


End file.
